


The Hell's Magic?

by MewlingQuim



Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2211918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MewlingQuim/pseuds/MewlingQuim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day The King of Hell, Crowley and Sherlock Holmes are paired up to find their friends Dean Winchester and John Watson, who are both currently at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All while Sam Winchester and Team Free Will's Castiel are both stuck at a motel, hotel, who knows, watching Doctor Who.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hell's Magic?

**Author's Note:**

> This... is more brotp. Also it's my first thing I've ever published on here and it's a one shot full of nothing but a random idea from an awesome person from GaiaOnline.  
> No actual relationships, sorry babies.  
> Also, THIS IS COMPLETELY NOT SERIOUS AND FOR FUN.  
> So, yeah.

Dean Winchester-Hunter- and Dr. John Watson-Blogger- sat together having a drink in the Room of Requirements. It was their way of running off from a couple of great minds. Well, Sherlock more so than Crowley, but neither of them would ever say that. Crowley's demon blood would boil and Sherlock would just tell him as it was anyway.   
"Right then." John said to Dean after taking a long drink from the mug. "We sit here until the duo can find us, right?" he asked the hunter, who replied with a nod.   
"You know, the look on their faces. Priceless. It'll be awesome." Dean grinned brightly for the first time in a long time.   
It was always a good thing when the entire group of, well, you wouldn't call them /friends/ per se, more like... law breaking acquaintances, were together. They always had good fun. Or at least Dean and John did.   
"Never thought I could get along with a person named John." Dean said aloud to the blogger who just nodded and shrugged it off. He knew of Dean's past and Dean knew that he knew.

Sam Winchester-Hunter- was never one to sit down and really watch a show, unlike Dean, who had obviously seen just about every show in modern pop culture. But Dean was gone with Crowley again and that left Sam there doing absolutely nothing. So, he decided that he'd try out watching Doctor Who.   
Just as the music started up- dun dun dun du dun dun dun du dooo do doooooooo dooo doooooo dooooo doooo OOoooooweeeee oOOOooooooh!- there was a flutter of wings and Sam turned to see Castiel sitting beside him, his eyes narrowed in confusion at the screen.   
"Cas?" Sam asked, "What are you doing here?"   
The angel turned to look at the hunter, though he wasn't his favorite hunter, Sam would do for his company for the day. "I was.. well.. no one in Heaven to give me orders, so I decided to come here." The angel replied, blinking slowly at Sam.   
"Do you not want me here?" He asked, tilting his head.  
Sam shrugged. "Ever seen Doctor Who?" He asked, watching as the angel shook his head as his reply. "That's what I'm doing. You're more than welcome to watch."   
The angel sat at the edge of the sofa as Sam played the show from the laptop, the image projecting on the television screen. 

"You're nearly as freakishly tall as Sam Winchester." Crowley muttered, feeling incredibly small beside Sherlock Holmes. Not that his /ego/ felt small, he was just much shorter than the taller man. "And your bloody coat. Did you /steal/ my fashion sense?"   
"No, of course not, if I /stole/ your fashion sense, wouldn't that basically mean that I've stolen your clothing? Hmm. For one, you're too short. Two? You're rounder 'round the middle. I'd rather not go out looking like a homeless man. Well, not right now." Sherlock retorted playfully though his voice was none but serious.   
Crowley narrowed his eyes at the taller man before he rolled them. "Let's just go find these two idiots, yeah?" He stated through a mumble.  
"John's not an idiot. He just doesn't use his mind to its full capacity as he could." Sherlock said, defending his best friend. "Though Dean Winchester? He /is/ an idiot."  
"Quite." Crowley muttered, walking up the staircase as it began shifting. "Isn't this bloody lovely?"   
Sherlock shrugged. "Who cares. Maybe it'll get us where we need to go."   
"Are you even looking at the map? You call yourself a genius and I've given you the map to read. That was a mistake wasn't it?"  
"Hardly." Sherlock huffed, "This map just doesn't work." He said as he stared at the demon, grinning at the excitement that ran through his body as the stairs continued to change, unable to predict exactly where they would come out at. It was /exciting/ and he needed that bit of excitement here recently.  
Crowley looked at Sherlock and shook his head, his eyes narrowed as his body stiffened while he crossed his arms. "What exactly did I tell you the moment I handed you that map?" He asked Sherlock, his voice sounding as though he were scolding a young school boy.   
Sherlock simply shrugged, resulting in Crowley tearing the map from his hands and shaking the durable parchment, revealing exactly where Dean and John were at.

"And I lobbed his head off, just as I was taught to do." Dean said proudly as he took another sip of his drink. John looked simply amazed at hearing some of the stories that this man had. He would just /have/ to use it for his blog. Especially this experience.  
"Before you lot came over to England I had no idea that there were actual /monsters/." John said, noting everything in his mind that the hunter said. Dean nodded, drinking again and grinning in amazement at the fact the mug just refilled itself. He needed one of these back home.   
Dean also wondered about how long it would take Crowley to find him. It wasn't like they were friends or anything, but Crowley seemed to think so. Who was he kidding, really? The demon was pretty cool when he wasn't being a big douche. All while Dean was thinking about this, John was wondering how Sherlock was coping. Certainly he was coping quite well. Sherlock was always okay without him, it was just the other way that didn't quite work out in his favor. He shook this thought from him and shrugged, taking a long drink from the magically refilling glass, wondering how much alcohol he had actually consumed. 

Crowley stomped through the halls, seeing right where to go, though he couldn't see a way into this 'Room of Requirement' and that was really beginning to aggrivate him. Much more than Sherlock was with his boasting. "Yeah, well, if you've got time to pamper your ego, you've got time to help me get into this room. Don't make me use your bloody head as a battering ram, you pompous arse."   
Sherlock crossed his arms and poked his nose in the air, acting incredibly childish. He was in a world filled with magic, which was nearly impossible anyway, so why couldn't he act like a child?   
The demon shook his head and rared back to punch the wall, watching how the crack spread in every direction as a bit of rubble fell from the wall. "Finally someone doing something /productive/." he said, directing his rage towards Sherlock and the wall until he had beaten a hole through it.

Castiel sat at the edge of the sofa and grinned, shaking his head at the episode of Doctor Who. "Humans. Your imaginations are so great. Vast. I enjoyed it." He said, glancing over to Sam, who was curled up against the side of the couch.   
"It was good. I can't believe I've waited so long to watch it." The hunter said quietly as he relaxed against the side of the sofa, his eyes halfway closed.   
"You should rest, Sam." Castiel said. "I'll watch over you."   
However, his words were in vain, because the hunter had already fallen asleep and begun snoring softly. 

Dean smirked from behind his beer mug once he saw Crowley and Sherlock burst into the Room of Requirement. "'bout time you two showed up." He slurred slightly, glancing over to John who was passed out on a couch. Sherlock calmly took in the scene, though he was worried for John, so he went further into the room to check on his friend.   
"I could beat the hell out of you." Crowley hissed at Dean, who returned his anger with a drunken smile. "The King of Hell angry at me?" He asked, green eyes piercing the demon's hazel ones.   
Crowley rolled his eyes and appeared beside Dean, taking his cup and throwing it onto the floor before slapping the back of his head, using his powers to sober him up. "Moron." He said.  
Sherlock frowned when John just mumbled and rolled over, so Sherlock picked him up, draping his upper body over his shoulder as he held his legs steady, looking at Crowley. "Do your... magic." He hesitated with the last word, not wanting to believe in it, but it was right in front of his face, how could he not? "Take us back to 221B."   
Crowley narrowed his eyes at Sherlock and snapped his fingers, sending the two back to their flat in London before he grabbed Dean's elbow and teleported to where the Impala was parked back in America. 

Sherlock laid John down in his bed and pulled his shoes off before covering his best friend up in his blanket, ruffling his hair, giving him secret signs of affection whilst he was asleep. Only moments had passed before he made an awkward noise in the back of his throat and walked out of the sleeping man's bedroom into the living room, where he played a mellow tune on his violin, keeping in mind that John was asleep.

Dean grumbled at Crowley the entire time he was being led to the Impala. "I don't see why we can't have a bit of fun."   
"You're telling that to me as if I've stopped you from having fun. Didn't you realize you were in a magical sort of world and Sam had no idea? Didn't you stop and think for one second that you were being played with? You and John both. We're not of the same world, we're all from alternative worlds. Sherlock here is just a television program, where we would be in their universe. I can't stress this enough. You're such a moron." Crowley said, scolding Dean for not thinking.   
The beer was strategically placed there, the room was there, the map showed up in Crowley's pocket. It was all a set up and they needed to figure out who was behind it. But the demon wasn't even sure he had it in him just then.  
The hunter shrugged. "Whatever, Crowley. It was frickin' awesome. You should've seen the beer." He beamed at the demon with a bright smile before letting it fall, realizing who he was actually talking with. Dean let out a grunting sigh before turning and getting into the Impala. "I need to go find Sammy. I'll call you if I need you." He said to the King of Hell, who replied with a, "You know my number."   
666.

Castiel sat at the edge of the sofa still, rewatching the episode of Doctor Who and keeping an eye on Sam out of the corner of his eye as he did so, hoping that Dean would return soon.

Crowley disappeared, making his way down the halls of Hell with an irritated look on his face. He could still feel the traces of the magic at work, but he tried to push it out of his mind. What bothered him the most though, was the fact that the Marauder's Map was still in place in his jacket pocket. He felt it. There was nothing he could do about it though, and he liked the feeling. The King shrugged it off and disappeared into his office, sitting in his chair before he propped his legs up and pulled the map out, looking over the blank pages on the inside, wondering where all of the places and footprints had gone with a frown.

The archangel Gabriel and Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat on a park bench watching the entirity of the scenes play out in front of their eyes. It was all projected through the lake in front of them. The duo had mischievous smiles stuck on their faces as they watched how everything unfolded, congratulating each other on a job well done.


End file.
